


Why Weasley?!

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Arguing, But they work for her, COVID-19, Coping Mechanisms, F/F, Forced Marriage, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Multi, Pandemics, Past Ginny Weasely/Pansy Parkinson, Past Relationship(s), Possibly Unhealthy?, Same-Sex Marriage, Smoking, Swearing, Triad - Freeform, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Pansy was perfectly happy with her life and her wife. Then Covid happened and despite the incredible losses to their world, they were still fine. Then? Then the Ministry decided to create a Marriage Law that dictated every magical human in Britain between the ages of 17-50 should be in a marriage or bond capable of producing children. Then, to top it all off, they said they needed to marry Ronald Weasley. Fuck.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley/Susan Bones, Susan Bones/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19
Collections: Tag(line) You're It! Competition





	Why Weasley?!

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> "Believe the unbelievable." (The Life of Pi)
> 
> To my alpha/beta: for now, you know who you are. Thank you! (:  
> (I'll add your name after the fest is over.)
> 
> This might turn into part of a longer series of stories at a later date. For now, it stands alone.

1 January 2021

_To the Missuses Parkinson-Bones:_

_This missive is to remind you that as witches of an age between 17 and 50 in a union not capable of producing biological children you fall within the scope of WB-1359._

_Further, because it is within the scope of your own personal preferences that you not be separated as indicated on past surveys, you will be required to join with a third magical, to create a triad capable of producing children._

_As the requisite time period of six months has come and gone, allowing you the chance to find your own third, one will be appointed for you with this letter. Your previous responses and magical testing have been utilised to determine the best match for your union in personality and most capable of producing children with magical capabilities._

_§9_ _32 of WB-1359 states that the prior inclusion of one Half-Blood or Muggleborn in your current union exempts you from initial requirements dictating the third not be a Pureblood._

_Please find enclosed with this communication a photograph of your future husband, their bibliographical profile, and a reservation to La Rose Violette where you will meet and dine with your future spouse on 7 January at 7:00 PM._

_The three of you will have three months to register a date for your Bonding ceremony. The ceremony must take place within the calendar year. Each witch should plan to bear at least two magical children within five years._

_Please direct any inquiries to the Department of Magical Unions within the Ministry, attention: Jaime Blanche._

_Best wishes,_

__

Geronima Rosier

* * *

Pansy groaned at the words she read on the parchment in her grasp. They had known this was coming, she and Susan.

The Wizengamot had passed the Marriage Law, WB-blahblahblah back in June when it became clear that the Muggle pandemic had crossed the blurred barrier between their worlds and was hitting the wizarding community at almost twice the rate it blazed through the Muggle one. And, unlike with the Muggles, the youngest age group was the hardest hit. The virus mutated when it hit a magical neural system, attacking it with impunity.

Of those who didn’t succumb, 90% lost the ability to perform magic. Granger and her Unspeakables, Susan included, were doing all they could, but they still didn’t know why it was all happening. In the past year, more than 70% of magical children had succumbed in one way or another. But Merlin, they’d been hoping they would find another solution. Even with a magical vaccine in trials and on the way, it wasn't enough for them.

Pansy tossed the paper to the table in front of her lest she crumble it or burn it to ashes. The former Slytherin buried her face in her hands and tried desperately not to look at the smiling face grinning sheepishly up at her from the photograph below. 

From the glossy photo stared one Ronald Bilius Weasley, former Gryffindor and one-time bane of her existence alongside his poncy best friends.  
  
And she and her wife were going to have to marry the blighter. Fuck all, she needed a stolid dram of Firewhisky and a round of heated sex. 

Unfortunately for her, her wife was at work and they rarely kept alcohol in the house these days. So, Pansy leaned back and Summoned her pack of Muggle cigarettes to hand instead, snatching them nimbly out of the air when they flew her way.

Idly, as she lit a fag and stared down at the image and paperwork strewn across their kitchen table, she imagined her mother rolling in her grave that she would do something so common. _So Muggle_. Pansy smirked wryly and took another drag, focusing on the feeling of the smoke flowing down into her lungs and the nicotine hitting her system.

Ronald Weasley…

Fuck.

* * *

Pansy sighed softly and closed her eyes. Susan carded her fingers through her hair soothingly and she found herself leaning further into the touch. Absently, she swirled the riesling in her glass, encouraging the citrusy undernotes to rise their way.

Rather than wait at the door for Weasley, they had opted to be seated early. Now, here they were, thirty minutes after the time of their reservation and he still hadn’t shown. 

The one plus side she could find other than the top-tier wine and the heavenly scents wafting their way from the kitchens was the fact that the few other patrons spread across the room were focused on their own crappy situations. The Ministry had booked _La Rose Violette_ for dinner service that night for meetings between the new spouses-to-be they’d meted out at the start of the year. 

“Heads up, love. George and Angelina just sat down with Eleanor Branstone and Sue Li.” Susan whispered softly. “Odds are Ronald won’t be far behind them.”

Pansy opened her eyes at this and glanced toward the entrance. “Correct as usual, love.” 

There Weasley stood: tall, lanky, surprisingly well-dressed for him, his brilliant red hair flashing across her vision despite the distance. Out of all of Ginevra’s brothers, he was by far the least approachable after she and the youngest Weasley had split on less than amicable terms. It had been over a decade since they had gone their own separate ways, but Ronald was known for his ability to hold a grudge. 

Pansy bit at her bottom lip in consternation. She found herself straightening in her seat, reverting back to old coping tactics from her youth as he was led their way. She reached out and gently set her glass on the table. 

Mentally, Pansy gathered her tumultuous thoughts and shoved them resolutely into the box in the back of her mind that--even over twenty years later--still resembled her school trunk, maiden initials, emerald and silver trim, Holyhead Harpies stickers, Hogwarts crest and all. She flung it closed and locked the lid in place. To anyone who cared to look, she simply appeared bored. Blank. 

Susan rubbed the knot that had formed at the nape of her neck but didn’t comment like she usually did when Pansy shut down. Her wife must realize that she needed to use these old techniques if they were to get through the night unscathed. Circe help them, she hoped it worked.

The silence built in the air around them as they waited, broken by the awkward clearing of Ron’s throat as he approached. He gave his guide a strained smile and nod as they handed the evening’s menu over to him and then scurried away. 

Ron glanced briefly down at the menu before laying it lightly on the table and folding his hands together on top of it. He glanced sheepishly up at them.

“Hi,” he managed.

Mentally, Pansy rolled her eyes but instead let her head give a slight nod of acknowledgement as she reached for a fortifying sip of her wine. She’d let Susan do the talking for now. 

“So, erm, hello, Ronald. Ron. How’s the store doing? I heard there’d been talks of opening a new branch on the continent in...France? Spain?”

A grin lit Ron’s face from within and the tension lapsed away as he grabbed the lifeline that Susan was throwing his way.“Both, actually! We’ve been in talks with Champs d'Éclair in Paris and Barrio Cresciente in Madrid. And Lee’s just heard back from Ulmenstraße in Berlin; they’re cautiously interested in discussing a location there as well! There’s even a few employees interested in helping run the new locations so George and I could stay here and keep on with researching new products. It’s all going surprisingly well, what with the pandemic and all.” Ron winced slightly, “Well, what I mean is…” he trailed off, not sure where to go.

Pansy cut in, “That you’re rather pleased it hasn’t also gone all pear-shaped with the whole world, Magical and Muggle, going to pot you mean?”

“Erm, well, yeah, I ‘spose that’s what I mean, it is.” Ron’s face was turning redder by the second, his blush creeping to the tips of his ears.

“Well then, at least we won’t have to worry about how we’re going to feed four plus children then, will we?” The corner of her mouth lifted into a smouldering smirk. “No need to revisit your youth and all.” A fire lit behind Ron’s eyes at her dig on his family but she continued on, heedless of his delicate feelings.

“We survived the War and the aftermath. And, so far, we’ve all avoided the bloody plague. Gold stars for us. But, you know well as I that we’re not exactly here by choice. You can do your part to provide, beyond the physical requirements, and we’ll survive. Better or worse. Ta.” She quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

“And survive we will, I think. Last I heard the Unspeakables and Alembica are finishing up their last round of trials for the magical version of the vaccine that’s been developed. Aren’t they dear?” Pansy looked over to her wife, pleased to see her eyes spark just a little.

“Pans, you know I’m not allow-”

Pansy did grin at Susan’s rapidly bottling ire and frustration. She loved her wife’s temper sometimes. Hufflepuff be damned, Susan could hold her own when she wanted. 

“Down, Suz. I know. I know you can’t say anything about work.” Pansy laid her hand on the curve of her wife’s thigh nearest her, attempting to soothe. 

“Besides, that’s not my point anyway.” She turned back to Ronald, determined. She was going to tear open the festering anxiety and tension that lay between them so they could lay it to rest. Merlin knew how it would implode later if they didn’t take care of it now.

“Let’s get it in the open, shall we?” 

Pansy began marking her points off on her hand, one by one. 

She raised her index finger.

“You hated me for years in our youth.” 

Her middle finger rose. 

“I was a right little bitch, though I had reason.” 

Up went her ring finger and slack went his jaw. The emerald stone from her wedding ring glinted in the soft light of the restaurant when she moved and Pansy’s eyes were momentarily drawn to it. She felt herself relax just the tiniest bit at the reminder. Her _wife_. Her wife was still beside her and would be with her through this shitstorm. She blinked slowly then pinned Ronald with her stare once more.

“I dated your sister for five years back in the early aughts.” 

She unfurled her pinky and his eyes crinkled a little with annoyance. 

“We broke up.” She paused and stared into his eyes then leaned further across the table. “It was shit.” Finally, she let her thumb join the rest of her fingers and turned her hand for him to see, wriggling her fingers. 

“But, despite it all, she and I are friends again and you can’t seem to wrap your pygmy puff-sized brain around the concept. Fine. Be a child. Just grow up before we’re forced to have one of our own.” 

By this point, Ron’s mouth was hanging open slightly and he had the grace to look embarrassed. 

Pansy sighed and let her hand fall to the table as she sat back against her chair. Circe how were they ever going to manage a family with him? What was the Ministry thinking? She didn’t care for the Marriage Law in the first place; it was archaic, barbaric even. But Ronald Weasley paired with her? Her sweet, wonderful, intelligent wife had to be the reason they were to be tied together now. Only she could temper her...them.

Appropriately, inevitably, the waiter chose that moment to arrive for their orders. All three of them glanced away from one another and back to their menus. When they had all chosen a selection from each course and Susan had queried after a second bottle of wine, the waiter snatched away their _cartes_ and stalked off in the direction of the kitchen. 

With a swallow and a soft _ahem_ , Ron offered a fragile, “I’m sorry.” 

Both of Pansy’s eyebrows rose and Susan smiled gently. “You’re what now?”

“Don’t make me repeat it. Besides, you owe me an apology, too. You can throw jibes at me as often as you like, but not my family. Never my family, Parkinson.”

She smiled at that. “Parkinson-Bones, actually. And,” she shrugged, “old habits.” 

Their salads arrived and Pansy began to poke lightly at the spring mix in front of her, rolling a cherry tomato back and forth across the bowl. 

“I guess,” she sighed and looked up at him, “I guess I’m just anxious. We’re going to be Bonded, so you should know. It’s a defense mechanism.” She winced. “And I _hate_ admitting that no matter what my trauma therapist tells me about being honest about my feelings. Circe’s tits and Merlin’s saggy ballsack. It feels wrong to tell anyone other than Susan my secrets.” 

Pansy stared deep into Ronald’s denim-coloured eyes which were sparking with humour, likely at her recent string of delightful epithets. Her language could get quite colourful, she had found, when she was anxious. Thankfully, he had the wise insight to refrain from commenting.

“But, we’re stuck together. And the future of the Wizarding community needs us. So, I’m willing to try if you are.” She dropped her fork gently and stretched her hand out across the table. “Let’s start again.”

Ron gave a genuine smile and grasped her hand in his, twisting it to place a soft kiss across the back of her hand. To Pansy’s surprise, she felt a frisson of heat spark through her womb at the gesture. No one but Susan had caused that sort of feeling in years.

“Looks like Gin was right. I’ll certainly never be bored with you two.” 

He released her hand and sat back, running a hand through his hair before he looked back at both of them in turn. A coy grin lilted at the edges of his mouth, playful and beguiling. 

“Not that we have much choice, but let’s do this. How about this coming weekend?”

Susan’s jaw dropped and Pansy’s eyes boggled. “When?” she screeched then winced as half the patrons turned their direction. Ron tossed a _Muffliato_ around them then broke into peals of laughter.

“Next weekend. Why not? We’re not getting any younger and this isn’t going to go away. C’mon, Pans. Surely you should know by now to expect the unexpected when you deal with a Weasley. Besides, who’d ever believe it if we agreed to be one of the first groups to Bond?”

Pansy’s mouth twisted into a moue for a moment and she opted to let his use of Susan’s nickname slide. Only her wife had ever been allowed to call her that. 

Pansy stared back down at the remnants of her salad. She traced the sweeping curves of a ruby leaf still stuck to the edge of the bowl with her gaze, trying to coalesce her thoughts. Her eyes slid closed.

She’d kill for another smoke right now but it would have to wait. Perhaps she’d be able to get away with it after another round with her gorgeous wife. Thoughts began to creep in at that thought, of earlier. Of Susan’s head between her legs, the former Hufflepuff’s round, beautiful ass pushed into the air behind her for Pansy to watch as she finger-fucked herself while eating her out. 

Pansy shook her head. 

Not now. 

Thoughts of sex with her wife might help calm her sometimes, but Salazar they were distracting.

She turned to look at her wife then, perusing the chocolate depths of her eyes. Susan shrugged so Pansy turned back and let a wicked grin cross her face.

“Why the hell not. Let’s do this Weasley.”


End file.
